A week downtown

This week I was back downtown, not exactly where I use to live and love, but close enough to everything. Malls, the metro, tunnels, restaurants, the Montréal light festival, and I even saw people zipping by my window. (literally, there was a zip line set up).

This getaway wasn’t fun, it was liberating. To wake up in the morning, see it’s snowing outside and still be able to go get a tea, food, do some shopping, get a haircut, do the little things I once took for granted, and not having to worry about how I’ll get there was such a relief. I was rid of anxiety for the first time in a long time. And it didn’t hurt to sit by a fire and write, and then get back to a clean room. Fun, I don’t know. Do you enjoy going to the pharmacy? Maybe not, but being able to do it sure is nice.

My kids even passed by and I took them to the pool, to a chocolate shop, a nice dinner at Baton Rouge, and then dessert at chocolate favoris. And I never once worried about accessibility. Such relief.

But this getaway also had an unforeseen result. In that I realized I’m no longer a city girl, and just how much I have grown. For years after moving away from the plateau, I longed to be back there. In my well located apartment on prince-Arthur, surrounded by restaurants and anything else you could possibly need, and all at walking distance. 

When we first left downtown to live in the suburbs, my health started to decline. For a long time I associated the two together. I blamed the suburbs for my loneliness, for my illness. Even though I knew they weren’t linked. But now I have grown to love my little community, my neighbors, my little suburban home. People dressed in their best pair of jogging pants while they shovel their driveway or walk their dog. Sometimes I even dream of living someplace more secluded. I long for fresh air, mountains, trees, and the quiet of nature. 

I am not who I once was, and that’s ok. I will always look fondly on my time in the city, but I’m ready to let go of the city girl.

This getaway was meant to re-emerge myself into Montreal, but it turns out it was  more of a chance to say good bye. And I’m good with that.

 

Brushstrokes

This winter has been hard. It snowed early and (for disability reasons) I found myself trapped in the house sooner then imagined. I have been, basically, hibernating since November. 

The lack of sun, and human contact has turned me into a hermit.
I have become detached and depressed.

Last winter I painted on a regular basis and it kept me sane and content. Happy even. This year I hadn’t lifted a brush … until someone asked for an original.

This painting has been my saviour these past few weeks.
It’s like finding purpose again. A weight lifted and I stood

I’m not sure exactly what you want, but be certain lots of thoughtfulness has gone into it.

I am not ready to reveal it yet, but also anxious to do so.
So here is a sneak peak of an extremely happy, colourful, abstract painting. Shown here, in its entirety, with lack of color. 

These brushstrokes
Are part of many, of thousands
Yet they stand out, they are unique
Destined and impulsive
And inspired by color.

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Freedom

I have been somewhat trapped inside the house since about November. Venturing out only on a few occasions. Dinner with friends, or with family, and a trip to the art store. 

I have a progressive disease and …. well….it’s doing what it does. It’s progressing. It feels like it’s progressing quicker but that’s probably because I have less endurance left. In the beginning I could walk / stand for hours and hours, so loosing a few seconds was barely noticeable. But those seconds have added up throughout the years and I’m down to a few minutes. I can notice the minutes getting less and less, week by week. Dean has had to carry the weight I can no longer handle and I feel like a burden, even though no one has ever complained. 

I was scared (again) that I could no longer lift myself up, mentally and physically. 

Of course the weather has played a major role. Every time I felt the strength to venture out, we would get another snow storm and I retreated to my safe spot. My home. 

So I decided to venture downtown. To spend a few nights in a hotel linked to all the underground, snow/ice free, tunnels. To see if I can live independently again, once accessibility is no longer an issue (sort of). 

I had been drowning, let’s see if I can learn to swim again.

 

The view

 

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I had this peaceful view for a very short time when we stayed at a chalet up north,

I was able to ride my wheelchair to the bottom of the hill.

Then use my cane to walk very slowly and very carefully to the end of the dock,

Where I planted my tripod and fell to my knees.

I stayed there for a while

Watching the ripples in the water, and the trees gently swaying 

Listening to the frogs croak and the leaves ruffling in the wind

And then angling my camera for a shot

The joy, peace, and serenity from this time were intertwined with the sadness, fear and realization of my situation. It truly was a beautiful, thoughtful and poignant moment

….

I really hope this wasn’t my last time …

At the end of a dock